


Meeting Your Gaze

by Ariasune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Avisshipping - Freeform, Ceremonial Duel, F/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariasune/pseuds/Ariasune
Summary: Isis attempts to live up to her namesake, and comes up short.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DISNEYGIRL](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DISNEYGIRL/gifts).



Her body heat sinks into the gold across her brow, and she sets her arms on the guard-rails, face turned to the breeze off the dark river. Staring out into the shadowy slip of water ahead, her eyes slide shut, settling. Hearing movement at her side, Isis murmured: "I'll sleep yet, Rishid."

An amused laugh, far too strong for Rishid's gentle tone, and Isis opens her eyes to look across at her Pharaoh. Immediately, her eyes lower respectfully, and she misses the disappointment that flashes in his.

"My King," her voice should be soft, should be supine, should convex to his presence, and yet she sounds curious. Cold, maybe. "Shouldn't you sleep as well? Tomorrow..."

"I don't think I can sleep," Atem's mouth forms a thin smirk, as he gazes out across the wake of the Nile. "This is my last night. Seems a bit wasteful."

His entire life has been wasteful, Isis thinks guiltily.

"I wish you could have had more time," she says instead.

Still watching out over the water, his gaze doesn't waver, doesn't hesitate. "There was so much more I could have done," Atem's fingers link together, and he grimaces. "So much more I would have if I'd only had the chance."

Quiet, Isis stretches a hand out to comfort him, but his skin is cool, cold, and he just _looks_ at her. She can feel the heat of her own skin in the edges of his fingertips, feels so far away, face burning. "I would have liked to have known you," she whispers under her breath, voice soft, voice curving to make space for his, for him.

She's dissatisfied, wanting, curious and it makes her blood warm. She wants to take him far away from here, wants to see what the world makes of him, wants to see what he can make of this world. She wants him; not in specifics, but in abstracts, in consideration, in a thought that she is having - right here, right now, the weight of her hand on the weight of his.

But he doesn't say anything, even though the realization has her staring at him like he could live tomorrow. He's not looking at her, eyes averted into the darkness of the river. He's gone, long before he came here to speak to her, long before she spoke to him. She cannot bring him home, no matter how many parts of him she can return; that task belongs to someone else, has always belonged to someone else, and an uncommon lurch of regret spikes in her.

Even here, her hand on his hand, there is a contrast between their feelings, and win or lose tomorrow, Isis has  _lost_.

Isis should let go of his hand, should let go of him, but win or lose tomorrow, she will be letting go of him anyway. She doesn't have any hold here, but her place has been his shadow. She is an Ishtar, and she strokes his hand consolingly. "You will be missed," Isis tells him, and he smiles as he looks off into the dark.


End file.
